


Where a Wizard Takes Care of a Mob Boss

by AshflameTheWaffle



Category: The Dresden Files - All Media Types, The Dresden Files - Jim Butcher
Genre: A healthy sprinkle of 'what the fuck is the author doing', Fluff, Hurt/Comfort, I wrote this for myself but yall can read it ig, M/M, On With The Story, no beta- we write and die like (wo)men, yep
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-05-21
Updated: 2019-07-04
Packaged: 2020-03-08 23:46:18
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 3
Words: 9,161
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18905101
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/AshflameTheWaffle/pseuds/AshflameTheWaffle
Summary: All's peaceful on the magical front- something rare for Harry. But of course, where there's peace for magic, someone from the mob shows up wanting help from him. What could go wrong? Answer? Dunno.I claim no ownership of any of the characters used in this story and I'm overly aware of the ooc characterizations





	1. When in doubt....

It started on a Wednesday.

Now normally, Wednesdays are slow days for me.

Or as okay as my job as a mafia kingpin of all of Chicago can go. Not too much work, no one blowing up my phones or emails, and definitely no random sicknesses.

This was not that Wednesday.

I woke up feeling nauseous. Which should've in itself, been the first pointer towards me being sick, but I had pushed through sicknesses before, so I didn't give it any more attention than a simple thought as I got dressed and ready for a day full of paperwork, legal and illegal business meetings, a _extremely_ small chance of a scruffy wizard dropping by for some magical reason or another, emails, and phone calls. One of these thoughts being much more entertaining than the others.

*******  
**Two Weeks Later**  
*******

I was comfortable, sitting on my couch, reading a book I recently had the extra money to splurge on, while my fireplace crackled with flames warmly in the winter. Hearing pounding on my door was not what I expected or wanted. Groaning, I put my book down with a small makeshift bookmark of a note-card and went to go see who it was considering neither Mouse or my wards were going nuts. What I expected? Murphy (except she, Thomas, and Molly had charms) Michael or, hell, even Morgan- literally ANYONE except who I saw.

"Dresden."

"Cujo?" I asked, looking at the linebacker reject of a mob enforcer. 'Cujo' Hendricks was a big and tall red headed man, right hand man of the infamous 'Gentleman' Johnny Marcone, and as I mentioned, looked like he had played football for most of his life and could throw me like the ball from said sport. Probably wanted to. Couldn't blame him. The new additions were a surprise though- there were dark circles under his eyes and he looked done with everything and everyone along with the fact he wearing a surgical mask you'd see doctors and sick people wear or when people were trying to be 'aesthetic' or whatever Molly and kids these days called it. Christ, I sounded old. I swear I'm not. Anyways. He was glaring slightly at the use of my nickname for him and I could only imagine his mouth had thinned into a sharper line.

"I need you to come with me," he said, thumbing at the car not too far away and I immediately was on guard.

"And why would I ever dream of that, if Marcone wants to see me, he can come up to my door and see me, otherwise, no." I sassed, which made him glare even more. My whole life goal seems to be pissing off everyone and I would have won gold if there was an Olympic sport for it- I mentioned this to Murphy and she agreed and said and I quote, 'You would have won for the past decade and raised everyone's standards for the gold winners.'

"Just get in the damn car and I'll explain on the way," Hendricks grunted.

"Mmmm... How about you explain now and I decide whether or not I wanna help, hmm?" This actually made the man groan and rub his eyes with his ginormous hand, then continued to surprise me considering I think this whole conversation is the most emotional I've ever actually seen him. 

"He's not going to sleep and we can't force him to go to bed, we're so fucking tired of his bullshit and, quite frankly, I'm running out of ideas. Do I need to actually need to use 'please', because I will use it at this point," Cujo rambled, and while he rambled, I pinched myself discreetly to make sure I wasn't dreaming because this monosyllabic man was going on a full on tangent and didn't seem to have any point of stopping.

"-even Sigrun can't get him to get him to stop, he's using her wards she gave him at some point or another to stop her and she doesn't have the materials at the moment to take them down and we don't trust any of the grunts obviously so I just-" I had to stop him from going on for another five minutes because I was completely lost on who 'he' was, and I had to vocalize that much. Hey, I may be a P.I. but I am only a man.

"Okay, hold it right there. Who, in all of the nine hells, is this 'he' you keep mentioning, and why do you need my help. That does not," I quickly stopped him with a widening of my eyes and a raised hand when I heard him inhale, "mean interrupt me, I mean, why do you need _my_ help specifically. Because it sounds like if you wait a bit, Gard can take down those wards and then force whoever it is into a bed." 

"Boss," he said.

I stood there silently for a moment as I sharply inhaled. I rewound the conversation, making sure I hadn't misheard him before I said, oh so eloquently, "Excuse me what."

Hendricks sighed in response to my inhalation, "John. Johnny. Marcone. Boss. Whatever you wanna call him."

I quickly rewound his whole spiel, pressed play, reviewed everything, and just about fainted. I looked at the bridge of his nose- since I didn't want to be pulled into a soulgaze- and said slowly, "You're telling me, that Gentleman Johnny Marcone, the Baron, the crime boss of Chicago, is sick, and is refusing to go to bed and get better, and refusing all outside help, which made you," I emphasized my point by pointing at him, "come to me, to get help in hopes of getting him to stop."

He grimaced- as well as he could with that mask on- as if the mere thought of it pained him, "Yes."

Back to monosyllabism. Great. Okay. One normal thing. Gotta wrap my whole head around this. So I closed my eyes, inhaled quietly, and then opened them. "Okay," I said, slightly breathy, "I'll help you. B-"

"You'll get paid, don't worry about that. I'll pay myself if I have to," Hendricks interrupted eagerly, sensing what I was about to say.

I raised my hands in surrender, "Alright. Alright I'll go. But I'm going to have to grab a couple things first."

He nodded and looked inside which I gestured him to come in since it was fucking cold out there- thanks Queen frosty bitch- and shoved my door closed with some help from Mouse who seemed to have been overseeing the whole conversation just in case and went over to my sub basement. Opening the door and heading down I said to my loyal assistant and friend, "Wakey wakey eggs and bakey, Bob. Time for us to whip up a sleep potion and spell."

The very real human human skull's eye-sockets lit up with orange flame at my call and he yawned, although he didn't need to since spirits didn't actually sleep, but that didn't stop his melodramatic spirit of air and intellect ass. "What's up Boss, and why are you bringing out the heavy duty stuff??" Strangely straight to the point. Unusual for my friend. "Someone need some help with wet dreams? I could help them with that- and in the process I could probably get you some~" Ah. There it is.

I sighed, "Bob, please. We've got a very frustrated mob enforcer that has a stubborn workaholic boss that is sick and won't get rest."

The spirit gave me the impression that he just raised an eyebrow, "Sounds like something you'd do," and without giving me any time to splutter out a response, he continued, "Alrighty, let's whip up some form of your guy's Nyquil and make something that could knock a dragon out!" Well that's overkill but it just might work.

So for the next 20 or so minutes, Bob and I worked on a very powerful sleeping potion- with the occasional jab at helping another 'damsel in distress', which I made very clear every time that this was NOT a damsel, and in fact a mob boss. Didn't help- which, like Bob said, if we could get close enough to give to a dragon, it would knock them out for maybe an hour or so; if that case ever did come up I had enough to make them fall into a coma. And if _that_ wasn't enough then Bob's suggestion of putting a simple dream spell on it as well just to make sure he wasn't disturbed with bad dreams. At this rate, I suspected he'd have such a quiet mind that he'd be able to meet his subconscious, if he hadn't already. Or maybe my ID was just a special dick. Who knows, certainly not me. Anyways, I went back out of my subbasement and casually looked at the couch and nearly choked on air. Ohhh if my ID didn't save this I was gonna _cry_ \- er well not cry but definitely be upset. It was Cujo, sitting on my couch, down for the count and asleep quietly snoring. My shoulders shook with the restrain of laughing at poor guy, he had certainly looked like he needed it too. I looked to Mouse, who had seemed to have expected me to look at him, and without a prompt except the fact that I had been given the _'Really?'_ look from him, the dogosaurus pushed the sleeping man's leg. Cujo, as I had internally predicted, startled quickly and went for his gun. I held up my hands peaceably as he remembered where he was, after he grunted in what seemed like embarrassment he got up and raised an eyebrow to the potion.

"That little thing gonna be able to make him stay down for the next year and a half?" I snorted as we started walking towards the door.

"Maybe a day or so, this thing could knock a dragon out for half an hour maybe. I wouldn't doubt it being able to hold the most dangerous vanilla mortal ever." Next it was Hendricks's turn to snort as I shut the door with some effort.

"Not at the moment, but sure. Now, let's go- or else I think I'm going to fall asleep again, and no I do not want any of that stuff you're holding." I dropped my slightly raised hand with the potion back down with a small smile growing on my lips. This was going to be interesting to say the least.

Boy howdy was I right or was I _right?_

When we got to Executive Priority, almost all the staff on the bottom floor seemed a bit tense. A few I recognized as higher-ups were wearing medical masks. Frowning, I reviewed for the 100th time what I put into the potion and then the facts of how _bad_ this case of what I suspected was the flu was. I muttered a few words, which blew out some high tech, and protected myself from the air- courtesy of Bob. Glancing at what floor Marcone was supposed to be on, I grimaced and went to the stairs. After a gajillion levels, I got to the top. Where Hendricks and Gard were waiting. I raised my eyebrows slightly as I quietly panted for breath.

"Do you have the potion, wizard?" The amazonian woman asked.

Snorting, I reached into my duster and brought it out. She took a once over at it and her own brows crawled towards her hairline. "I did not realize you took this that seriously."

"I'm getting paid for this aren't I?" I joked, feeling that small ball of dread from earlier build up in my stomach.

Gard nodded, but nothing else that indicated that she might have caught the joking tone, "He is in his office- he will not let us in, so I will have to request that you go in alone."

"Woah- bad enough to not let you two in?" I asked to Hendrick's narrowed eyes and a vaguely pained grimace (again, not completely sure because of his mask) as I put the potion back, "Why do you think he'll let _me_ in?"

The two shared a conspiratory look with each other, a full on conversation going on while I was standing on the sidelines. Distantly I wondered if they were together since I sometimes saw couples who came in do this often when asking for something from me. And honestly they seemed like a perfect match for each other. A Valkyrie and a mob enforcer. Write that down in the history books, kids. Then they looked back at me, conversation apparently over, and Gard responded, "It is only, what you mortals call, a 'hunch'."

Blinking, I raised my eyes to the ceiling, wondering which and what religion of god up there was having a laugh at me. Wondered if Shiro was laughing with Him. Oh well. Inhaling deeply, I sighed as I lowered my eyes back down. "I've done crazier things on a hunch. I'll go on in- wish me luck," I said but right before walking past them, Gard shoved a medical mask into my hands. I was guessing that she had sensed my small protection spell and deemed it unworthy. Hoh boy. Putting it on after briefly checking it for magic, I continued to the office as I felt their eyes burn holes into my back.

Opening the door to Marcone's office, that dread became a black hole for every other emotion I felt as I saw the man in question sitting at his desk. Even from here, I could see his old money green eyes glow with a feverish frantic light, bloodshot, his suit rumpled and his jacket was barely visible on the floor near him- tossed off when it got hot despite the cold air, if I had to guess, which in itself was enough to make me pinch myself- his perfectly smooth salt and pepper hair tousled and showing definite signs of having hands run through it, and his trembles rattling his usually strong, now small, form. It looked... _wrong_. Seemingly on a primal level, it seemed like this tiger shouldn't have been able to get so ruffled from a sickness. So. Code greenish yellow just took a leap to code red on this. And is if to make matters worse, when he looked up and saw me, his already wide and wild green eyes grew impossibly wilder. A quick furrowing of his brow and a magical energy suddenly tingled on my skin. A ward. A strong one meant to be subtle and strong but considering his will was frayed and not focused, it was radiating energy at me- wizard and all. Grimacing I walked towards him, watching as he firmed up and was preparing to say something, and said exactly what I thought, "Damn, Marcone, you look like shit," I watched him slump a bit in relief slash realization of who I was, but I continued, "and here I thought I was bad at self care."

"Harry," a hoarse, phlegmy, and overall tired sounding Marcone whispered.

"Yeah- that's my name, scumbag, don't wear out your only excuse to use it," I said with fake cheer, covering up my immediate response to piss him off. Although, as I said this, my surprise factor heightened at the fact he let the wards down with a slight slump over his desk- back to wanting to work, no doubt. Recognizing the behavior from my own dumbassery handbook, I impulsively grabbed his writing hand and pulled it away, "Hey now, no you don't-"

Marcone gave me a cold glare, reminding me a bit of a stubborn child who didn't _want_ to eat their vegetables thank you very much, and said with the same voice as before, "I'm fine, Harry, I'm just working. Working al-" he was cut off with a harsh coughing fit, racking his whole body before he continued, "Working is always said to make things seem worse. It is a lie."

I raised my eyebrows at him while eyeing him up and down as my dread-filled stomach evolved into a tight knot of worry, which really didn't make sense as I pushed that off for later, and muttered, "Yeah and I'm going to win the Guinness World Record for being the shortest person in existence." Sighing and moving to drag him to his feet, I said a bit more clearly and louder for him to hear, "Alrighty, scumbag, let's get you to your closest bedroom."

Once I got Marcone to his feet, he almost immediately started to fall down- probably a mixture of on purpose and completely against his will, not that he'd ever admit that. Catching him I could hear him mutter something about 'too important', 'can't leave', and 'put me back please'. Giving him one of my more Murphy 'Dresden-you-stubborn-asshole' and mixing it with the Charity look I've been perfecting, aka the 'if-you-don't-stop-this-then-I-will-do-something-drastic' look I've seen her give Molly. And the other Jawas slash Hobbits. And myself. Surprisingly, he wilted a bit under my look and stopped the protesting. Yay?

Feeling vaguely disturbed and a whole lot of concerned, I half-carried half-supported Marcone out of his office. Off to the side, sitting at and on the front desk respectively, I saw Cujo giving me an incredulous look while Gard looked vaguely amused and little bit knowing, which concerned my subconscious ( _my ID seemingly was concerned with this fact but couldn't tell me why- not yet at least_ ). Starting to walk towards them, I felt Marcone stiffen and stop. Now, I am a tall, _tall_ man. 6'9 with a long reach and a whole lot of raw magical power, but Marcone had more weight on me. Sick or not, he had been _letting_ me help him out and at the sight of his most trusted bodyguards, he stopped letting me help. Almost falling, I stopped as well and got a firmer grip on him.

"Marcone, it's literally just Cujo and bodyguard Barbie," and after I said that I think normally, Gard would have socked me for saying it. Or at least raised an eyebrow, but she seemed more amused then anything at that before it devolved into a neutral-worried look. Sigh. "Alright then- which way to the nearest bedroom. Gonna assume he doesn't always head to a home when here." Before I was even done with my sentence, Gard was pointing the direction. Cujo then stood up and made his way over. This, of course, made Marcone increase his wiggling that I couldn't keep a firm grip on him, because why would anything be easy with him- causing him to fall out of my grasp, onto his ass, and started to drunkenly back away. I blinked. Like. Seriously blinked. I looked to Cujo who I could only assume was grimacing as he backed away, letting me pick John up again. Jo- Marcone was muttering about 'didn't want him to take care of me like this' and 'already does enough' so I had the grace not to comment on it. 

Following where Gard had pointed me to, I took the nearest door and thanked the same deity I assume was laughing at me had let me find the bedroom the first try. Looking off to my left, I was relieved there was a bathroom- no chance of a snowflake's in hell would he last long without needing to vomit, which I actually made sure he did. While he was over in there vomiting, I started to rummage around his room. With a purpose mind you, I was looking for loose pjs, or something loose that could work as pjs. Finally after a bit more confusion and a whole lot more mess a la Dresden, I took out some pajamas- or what _looked_ like pajamas at least- and threw them on the bed, heading over to check on the now quiet crime boss. I stood in the doorway when I spotted him, on his knees in front of the toilet, glaring at his hand like it offended his mother, and for all I knew, in it's own very 'shaky body' language it could have offended his whole family tree. I ruefully wished I was in a better circumstance where I could laugh at him or the situation but now wasn't the time. "Think you can walk?" I asked, not wanting to invade his space.

The look he summoned up at his hand made me feel _bad_ for it. Not many things can make me say I felt bad for a _hand_. My left hand throbbed in response. Finally, he looked over at me. "No," was his hoarse reply.

I felt a wave of sympathy. It sucked when you had to give in to your feeble mortal body- I should know. Taking a couple steps over to him, I grabbed his arm near his shoulder and hefted him slowly to his feet. Even when I had done it slowly, he started to look ashen gray like a corpse as we walked over to his bed. As he accidentally slipped as he focused on his footwork, I grumbled lowly, "You are _so_ goddamn lucky I love you."

I blinked.

Had.

Had I said that?

I numbly helped him get into the looser clothing that vaguely resembled pajamas and rewound and played over and over what I had just said.

Shit.

The _problem_ was, that I _meant_ it. Thinking back on things, we had risked our lives too many times for the other to hate each other. Had since a long while back. We trusted one another to tell the truth and to not spill secrets; Amanda as a prime example, and hell- on my side of things, after we had defeated Puck _(albeit me v.s. him in a card game where I had cheated only the tiniest bit to win)_ I had a nightmare about Molly, Murphy, and John _dying_. It could've been Thomas or even _Lara_ but no, it had been John. Hell's bells and star stones. What a way to realize you had fallen for a mafia kingpin Baron of Chicago. Now, I know the fact that I liked a guy should've bugged me but the bisexuality I had found out a long time ago- I just preferred women. So that was old news. Ra ra, go team Dresden. 

As I turned away from the resting man, I began to go back to his bathroom to get a glass or something to put the potion in, but then I felt a firm tug on my duster. Looking behind me, I saw Marcone- or should I call him John?- had gotten hold of my sleeve and looked vaguely determined not to let go. Raising my eyebrows in a silent question he rasped, "Stay." It made me sigh in slight relief and exasperation.

"Marcone- I'm literally just going to the restroom to get you a glass of water and infuse it with a potion, I'm not leaving just yet." This only made him look frustrated, which was amusing because he very clearly didn't realize he wasn't in control of his face anymore.

"Stay," He said even firmer with some of his old command back, he opened his mouth- probably to try and explain something- but that attempt was very much destroyed by the fact he started to cough into his free elbow. Sometime during his body racking coughing fit, he had let go of my duster to keep his arm up which had allowed me to escape briefly to the bathroom and fix up his medicine. His coughs and wheezes keeping me on my toes as I poured a small bit of the potion into his water- he only needed a little bit- but Jesus Christ tap dancing on a pogo stick, how long had he been going on like this? 

Coming back he was breathing heavily and something wet kept catching every wheeze, obviously trying to get a small bit of composure back but it had escaped him for the time. Spotting me, he was probably about to try again but I raised my hand to silence him. I looked at him and gave a small nod. "I'll stay until you get fixed up. Fair?"

John relaxed a bit once I said that, but immediately looked distrustful of the glass of water with a faint green glow. I snorted. "Drink the green death, Marcone. It'll help, you stubborn bastard."

Glaring without heat at me, he gently took the glass from me, and without checking to sniff it like my natural instinct was whenever someone mentioned the disgusting taste of NyQuil, chugged it without hesitation. Leave it to John to not hesitate when it came to disgusting tastes, I thought bemused. Although the cough after he was done draining it made me chuckle a bit. Taking the glass from him, I went to go refill it with plain water so he would have something to either drink normally or get the taste out. 

Coming back, I saw a knocked out and very peaceful John Marcone. Which is something I would never thought would be a sentence I would think or say in my lifetime, so needless to say, I was laughing quietly as I set down the glass nearby and went to sit in a chair. Smiling and covering my mouth to stifle my very manly giggles, I decided that talking a nap would be beneficial to say the least.

And that was my last coherent thought before I was down for the count.


	2. Consult your ID...

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Harry and John meet with their respective IDs- only one shown here. Although, should respective be replaced with rebellious??

The next (techincal) day after I had arrived on the scene of Operation 'Get John Overworked Marcone into a living situation', me, Gard, and Hendricks got John out of the office (when everyone in the building left- which was thanks to Hendricks and Gard herding everyone out) and back to his mansion and his own bed. After I had woken up enough at around 12 in the morning, it made things easier for me and said sickly man. After we got settled (mostly got John settled because that man could work up a _fight _when he was backed into a corner for getting help- much like me I suppose), I asked Hendricks for how long this had gone on for because I had a feeling that the fiercely loyal man would _not_ have let this go on for long before trying things.__

__“Today, it’s around the third week of his sickness.” I gaped_ _

__“Third?!? And he’s been _this_ sick???” Thankfully I got a very forceful head shake and a pained grimace. Although I again had to infer because they- not including myself because I upgraded my spell to be where Gard approved and used herself- were all wearing medical masks and gloves if they worked with John close up._ _

__“No. Thank God, no- but he’s been sick for two weeks before a new drug cartel came along thinking they could bypass Johnny’s rules, then he was getting over-worked which is my guess on how he got this bad.” Ah- that explained it. Kids. A big fucking no-no in Chicago’s underworld. John had probably gotten righteously angry and stressed about that, which kicked his systems into the overdrive of all overdrives, another no-no for when you’re as sick as a dog. Sighing and thanking him for the answers, I went to the guest room where I was currently staying (and getting paid to stay because Cujo had basically gone _”You’re staying until he gets better alright??”_ and I wasn’t about to say I had already promised his half-lucid Boss I was staying.) I went to Bob for answers._ _

__“No.”_ _

__“‘No’ it’s not a magical sickness, or ‘no’ it’s not able to be cured by magic?” I asked the skull sitting on the bedside table. Said skull housing the Spirit of Air and Intellect sighed- a truly impressive feat- and explained,_ _

__“Both, boss. It’s a mundane sickness. Or at least it started that way and it’s been influenced by something that I can’t help with. And sure while our potion can help with the sleeping and stuff, if you wanted to speed up his healing, I suggest you- by some miracle- get better at healing magicks.” His eye lights went out after that- seemingly done with the conversation and wanting his ‘beauty sleep’._ _

__Putting Bob away in a spacious drawer, I was going to admit, that made me a bit upset that I couldn’t get him better faster by magic- and the more sensitive person I know that probably _could_ speed it up hated John with a rightful passion after saving him nearly got her father, a Knight of the Cross and all around good guy, killed. Even then he was probably never going to walk without a cane or see in both eyes again- unless they made some pretty fast medical developments that magic wouldn’t slash couldn’t interfere with. Rubbing the bridge of my nose as my train of thought got derailed again like so many times from my original thought, I went back to said original thought. John. I know I had said I was concerned but now left alone in my thoughts, I was a lot more concerned about him than I was willing to admit. Aloud or internally. Yes I am aware of the contradiction. Shut up. And damn it all to Hell yeah I did love the guy but randomly saying it out loud is one heck of a way to find out. I hadn’t even really been thinki-_ _

__Thinking. I hadn’t been _thinking_. I did it subconsciously._ _

___My ID.__ _

__I growled quietly. Oh that right _bastard_. Why didn’t he tell _me_ that I liked Marcone??? What the fuck??? Shouldn’t your subconscious tell you these things before dropping a bombshell like that on you? Dammit. _ _

__I stripped down to my boxers (normal grey ones thank you) and climbed into bed- determined to talk to my ID about this. And actually get some quality rest because I haven’t done that since two days ago._ _

__

__**Marcone’s P.O.V.** _ _

__Walking into my office, I found myself puzzled. Wasn’t I at one of my homes? This… Didn’t feel right._ _

__“Wellll I should hope so Johnny boy,” said an eerily familiar and husky voice._ _

__I turned- pivoting on my heel, instinctually going for my knife hidden in my sleeve until I found myself standing face to face with my face. Say that three times fast, I mused beneath a cool mask and studied him. It was me, but a very young looking one. He had on jeans and a black leather jacket. His hair was longish, tousled almost expertly and sported a stubble of beard that gave him the stereotypical bad boy look. I indulged in a grimace as I stared at my younger adult self before I had become the suited boss and was still the ‘Gentleman’ of the streets. I went back into a slightly less defensive position where the other me grinned- easy, predatorily lazy, and with emotion openly dancing in his eyes as he chuckled at my response._ _

__“Gettin’ tense aren’t you, ol’ boy?” He teased- with more of a Italian-Chicago accent I’d ever given in all of recent memory- as he walked around, letting me actually take a look at room itself which was barred at every opportunity, and hopped up onto the desk._ _

__I straightened myself and looked into his eyes, “And you would be?”_ _

__His grin got wider and sharper, “Why- I’m you!” And then he looked off to the side and grimaced a little, “Well, _inner_ you, but you still.”_ _

__I blinked a little. So, this was a literal meeting of the mind. “So, you are my psyche, or my subconscious.”_ _

__My newly appointed subconscious pointed at me, “Ding ding ding! We got a winner! Didn’t think you’d have it in you after all you’ve done to get rid of me.”_ _

__I let my mask fall as a I frowned- he knows all of my expressions considering he’s me, so why not- and asked, “What do you mean.”_ _

__His eyebrows climbed to his hairline, and he whistled slowly, “Not even a _conscious_ decision to try and get rid o’ me? Wooooowwww. Didn’ realize I meant _that_ lil’ to ya’ Johnny.”_ _

__Sighing at my continued and deepened frown, he apparently decided to not leave me scrambling for pieces internally and elaborated, “When you ignore my more violent suggestions or more rare caring ones and squash them so quickly and violently and try to lock them away somewhere you’ll never think about again- don’t think I haven’t noticed that you’ve upped your defenses this past decade- what you’re doing is trying to destroy your voice of indulgence. Your voice of your past tryin’ to get a little release.” He then hissed harshly, “Like you trying to squash all those impulses around the wizard.”_ _

__Raising an eyebrow and feigning ignorance, I questioned, “Which ones?”_ _

__Glaring, he popped off the desk and walked straight up to me, grabbing my lapels, “ _All_ of them. Controlling him, killing him, fuckin’ him, loving him, the whole goddamn enchilada.”_ _

__I did quietly laugh at that- Dresden certainly arose many a feeling in me. Especially early on in our relationship when I was still trying to get him under me, whether it be dead or alive. But him being as free and strong as the dragon I’d seen, didn’t break or give in to me. Instead it gave way to a more protective and nurturing side that I was not about to show him right in his face. The main reason I was willing to go to such lengths for him was because of it. So I gave a shrug to my subconscious, “And?”_ _

__He lowered his head and facepalmed so loudly that it made me blink slowly to hold a flinch. “ _AAAGH!_ YOU BOTH ARE LOVE-DOVEY _IDIOTS,_ ” He stated as he let go of me in such a voice I did more of a Spock head tilt and eyebrow raise than I did of my natural impassiveness. “You _DID_ hear him before you went under the first time, _right?!?_ ” _ _

__I gave a slow nod to the pacing psyche, and considered that myself. Of course I had heard it. I just didn’t have a response to it. Had he meant it? Was it a slip of the tongue? Could I blame my sickness if I responded in kind? I just didn’t have enough to weigh the pros and cons of the situation. “Indeed I did,” is all I said._ _

__“Thank fuckin’ Christ tap dancing on a pogo stick jumpin’ on the Cross for that then-” that was a certainly interesting swear that I had no memory of swearing, maybe I could mutter that in Italian whenever I felt too frustrated and had no better alternative, “because otherwise I woulda jumped ship right now. You two are oblivious to the sexual tension you put into a room I swear.”_ _

__Deciding I also had no response to that whole spiel and would deal with it in the waking world with Dresden himself, I took a different approach, “Would you happen to know what sickness we are currently having? Because I do not know of one that could reduce me to…. that.”_ _

__The wicked grin was back with a vengeance as he stopped pacing, “Oh- it’s just the common flu. I just ramped it up a bit so this would happen and I could actually get you two stubborn assholes together. I didn’t account for the kid situation, but that definitely helped now didn’t it?”_ _

__I stood there. Waiting. And then slowly enunciated as if speaking to a five year old, “You were playing matchmaker.”_ _

__He started to cackle and gave a thumbs up as he deemed himself unable to speak. Then he started to roll on the floor from how hard he was laughing- seeming to only get what he was doing at the moment._ _

__What a strange world I lived in._ _

__Where magical humans and supernatural creatures lived and fought each other while usually mortals were completely oblivious to it all. Where mob bosses could fall for a lanky underfed warden wizard. Where the cops of Chicago in S.I were _in_ the supernatural world but completely disregarded it. Where you could meet your subconscious, where Valkyries and Valhalla were real and where Kris Kringle was also Odin and was under the name Donar Vadderung._ _

__The last thought I had before my subconscious waved his hand, letting me fade into the blissful darkness was that I wouldn’t trade it for anything else in all of the multiverses that could possibly exist._ _

__

__**Harry’s P.O.V.** _ _

__Waking up, I grumbled- wanting more than ever to punch my subconscious in the face without hurting myself in the process._ _

__Basically. I got told about how many guys I had looked at over the years and then slammed with facts about me and Marcone. So nothing new and revolutionary on that front. But when I asked the actual question, he had stared at me like a science project gone so wrong he didn’t know what it was anymore. Then he had dropped the bombshell of “I didn’t say it. You did.”_ _

__So._ _

__I had been thinking._ _

__But my mouth had gotten there before my actual brain had caught up to my thoughts and let me internally panic about it first._ _

__Yay?_ _

__Rubbing my face I looked at the time. 4:58 PM. I had been out for 12 and a half hours. A good sleep in my book, but that didn’t stop my groan of wanting to go back to the comfy covers. Whoever said staying in bed was bad for you was an idiot and had clearly never been in a mob bed where crime truly did pay. Or maybe I had thought that at some point. In which case, past me was an idiot. Like usual._ _

__Getting dressed again, I went back out ready to help this damned man I had fallen for get better and back out on the prowl in Chicago._ _

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> H-  
> Here I test out my Marcone voice because hot damn he is a tricky character to pull off. Harry? I can get by just fine- he's a chaotic dumbass like myself, but Marcone? A cunning, cruel, and overall villainous man (whom I love to pieces)???? There's a better chance of me being able to learn Japanese in two weeks. 
> 
> Also I am 100% guilty of drawing inspiration for Marcone's ID from the fic 'Subconscious Attraction' by shiplizard bc hell yeah
> 
> ALSO also, I apologize for such a short chapter


	3. ...and make out?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The final chapter. I finished this a few days ago but life shit came up and I just didn't have it in me to upload it. Anyways- enjoy!

Heading out of the guest room, I was about to look around and try to remember which way Marcone’s- seriously should I call him John?- room was before I bumped straight into Hendricks who was a couple feet away from the door. Running into an intelligent and strongly built brick wall hurts when you both are doing that determined speed walk. Ow. 

“Dresden- there you are. Thought you were with Boss,” Cujo said with a twinge of relief as he seemed unaffected by running into me. Then again I’m a stick with a bunch of running muscles.

Rubbing my chest, I raised my eyebrows with lidded eyes and mused, “Yes, because we all can run on an hour of sleep and be on top of our game.”

He sighed and replied with a sliver of apology, “Just didn’t know where you were is all.”

I gave a nod of acknowledgement before I ultimately asked, “What’d you need me for anyways?”

“Boss is up at ‘em again,” he said with a grimace (that was _not_ covered by a mask this time).

Replying with a grimace of my own and sarcasm dripping from my every word, I crowed, “Lovely. Just what he needs right now. And even when I was just about to head over! Talk about _convenience_.”

Hendricks snorted with a smile pulling valiantly at the ends of his mouth before he smothered it and gestured to where he probably came from. “This way,” was all that he uttered.

While we walked, I weighed the option of making small talk or making this walk pretty awkward with our silence- or maybe I’d get lucky and it’d be a comfortable silence. You never know. Going against every “moral” bone in my body, I decided to ask the question that had been running around in my mind. “So… Are you and Gard together?”

Hendricks had to smother a laugh as he muttered a ‘woooow’. He looked at me with the smile that had been smothered earlier, “You really are just a blunt motherfucker, aren’t you?”

I shrugged with a grin, “That obvious after a decade?” 

“It _should’ve_ been.” Cujo said looking back ahead again, Hell, Dresden- I was usually one of the ones _with_ you when boss is working with you and it _still_ didn’t hit me how blunt you can get.”

“Har dee har har,” I said playfully rolling my eyes before gently smacking his arm, “Now answer the question, you intelligent brick wall.”

Hendricks snorted at the jab and gave a nod, “Yeah, we are.” He then looked over again, “ _That_ obvious?”

I shook my head, “No- it’s just the other day when you and Gard looked at each other those couple of times it made me think of couples that came in for a question or a potion.”  
A slow noise of an ‘aha’ moment came from him as we reached the door, “Thanks to you two, I had to give her fifty bucks.” 

I eyed him. “‘You two’? Who two?”

Cujo gave a small smirk with a worrying twinkle of mischief in his eyes before he opened the door and gave me a shove in. “Blunt and smart, but still a dumbass.” Then he shut the door.

I gave a glare at the now shut door as well as a stuck out tongue before I strode over to the half awake and mumbling mob boss.

First things first I decided to check him over with my magic, which was simple. I extended my senses to make sure that nothing in the room didn’t feel out of place; aka not Gard’s work, and over him to make sure that _he_ wasn’t magically out of place. Normally, I would use my sight but I didn’t want to have Marcone’s true image stuck in my brain for all eternity- I thought about his eyes and his soul often enough. 

Next up, I checked his fever and his pulse. No surprise here but he was burning hotter than my car on a summer’s day. Meanwhile, when I laid two fingers on his neck where I usually check for my own pulse, I felt his pulse was a nice even rhythm that didn’t cause any case of alarm to bolt through me so I left his neck alone. Walking over to the bathroom, I checked for a washcloth or something to lay on his forehead. When I found it and had gotten it wet enough from the sink I heard the man himself shifting around.

“Who’s there?” He croaked out with a firm hint of his usual growl, suspicious of who was there. What’s new?

Sticking my head out, I raised an eyebrow, “Just me, scumbag.”

The relaxation in his form was immediate as an amused, “Harry” came from him while he began to sit up. 

Biting my tongue about the name thing since I sort of _had_ given him permission to use it a couple days ago, I rolled my eyes and (gently) slapped the washcloth onto his forehead. “Yeah, it’s me. Who else has the balls to call you scumbag straight to your face?”

That made a bark of startled and choked laughter come from him, “In _deed_.” 

After that a couple minutes of calm silence settled as I sat down in a chair nearby his bed and started to read a book while also an easy distance from the bathroom if I needed to help him get up and over there. Then it was broken by a soft, choked up, and wheezy, “Harry?”

Looking over I saw him puzzling over something before trying again a bit louder and more confidently, “Is it…. _Normal_ for someone to talk to themself- or well, their inner mind when asleep?”

I felt my eyebrows rise again. I guess I was right about his mind being quiet enough to meet his psyche but how did you just go about explaining that?? ‘Hey you just met your subconscious and if he’s anything like mine he’s a prick’? Actually…

“You just met your subconscious- and if he’s anything like mine, he was probably a prick,” I deadpanned.

A soft wheeze emitted from him as he struggled to keep himself up while he shook with silent laughter. “You could most definitely say that,” he rasped, finally getting the wheeze under control.

I shrugged, “Anything of use to give you? Or was it severe chastisement slash explanation on who he was?”

He was silent for a long moment before he carefully but roughly spoke, “I think it would be safe and best to say all three. It was a… wake-up reminder.”

I raised my eyebrow at that. Since when did _he_ need a reminder on something? I always figured he had a photographic memory for stuff like that. Like a shark with favors- a tiger shark even. Amused, I got up and sat next to him on the bed to carefully watch his reactions, since one, I would probably never get this opportunity again, and two, because I did actually need to give him his potion. “Oh really? And what would _that_ have been?”

Sneezing (a ‘dad’ sneeze as people would call it) into his elbow, he replied, “I’ll tell you another day.”

Shrugging I gave a nod of agreement, “Alright- but my curiosity will not be quenched until you tell me,” I sing-songed to him.

He snorted before devolving into a coughing fit. “Yeah yeah,” he said between coughs, “Now go get that damn medicine. I can practically feel Nathan’s disappointment from here.”

Laughing, I went off to the bathroom to get the potion infused water for him. At least I knew it worked, and it seemed to get him a little more vibrant instead of the fever crazed man from yesterday.

Coming back I sat the glass next to him on the nightstand and then hopped gently onto the other side of the bed- mostly just to annoy him, but also because the bed was comfier than the seat. He rolled his eyes visibly for me before chugging the water. Coughing he grimaced at the taste and set the glass back down

Sitting there next to the sleeping man, I let my thoughts wander a bit. Not too far, not too dark, and most definitely not down the wrong rabbit holes, but still wandered places I’d rather not think about. One of the subjects I was pretty okay with though was about how hate and love have such a fine line in some relationships that it was startling.

I don’t know how long I spent there sitting and thinking, but when I did click back into reality, it was a whole lot darker out, I was being held like a teddy bear by John with his head on my chest, and my hand was messing with his hair and gently brushing his damaged ear. I blinked and then rolled my eyes upwards- hey God? Why do you fuck with me so much??

Letting my hand smooth his hair down, I made a small move to get up- only to find that even while asleep and sick, John seemed to have a grip of steel. I absently wondered if he was part octopus. Sighing, I let myself get into a comfortable position so _I_ could sleep in peace, and just like that, I was out like a light.

And no, I totally did not get teased by Hendricks for that for days on end- what are you talking about?

 

*******

 

Turns out that Marcone really got hit bad with that overworked sickness thing and it took almost two weeks for him to get over it. Fun times all around here. 

Cujo and I kept doing a daily talk to and (sometimes) from Marcone’s room because it was really amusing to talk to him when he was off duty- er, well, off duty for guarding Marcone. He and Gard were running the show while John was on sick leave and they, while having a few hiccups, were doing just _fine_.

My friends and brother had called and shown up at my apartment apparently repeatedly, so I had to go visit them and confirm that yes, I was alive, no, I had not been kidnapped- so Murphy tell your cop friends to calm down. Hell’s bells Thomas- stop threatening every ally I have. And _thank you_ Michael for keeping the peace knowing that probably- _yes_ , I was on the job and getting paid for this. It _just so happened_ that the job came from one of Gentleman Johnny Marcone’s top bodyguards about helping the Gentleman himself. 

John and I, however, went through the daily ‘baby-sitter’s’ routine. I checked him over, asked how he was feeling before shooting the breeze with him. Then when he was coughing and sneezing too much, I’d get the potion and let him drink it.   
Side note, one day I accidentally added a bit too much of the potion and Marcone was conked out for a couple days instead of a few hours. Gard gave me a pass as she knew how powerful it was and my honest apology. But I did get a bitch slap the moment she calmed down from _‘furious inhuman Valkyrie’_ to _‘annoyed coworker’_. Meanwhile Hendricks kept throwing harsh jabs at me. Definitely deserved that. But they both calmed down. So, mental note, Don’t Do That.

Mouse had accompanied me a couple times. He kept getting questioned by Gard who got huffs and barks as answers. (I knew he could probably talk if you understood him so I couldn’t help but feel more than a little jealous when Gard seemed to understand his every ‘word’) Hendricks kept giving him a wary eye and always rhetorically asked, “Where in all of hell do you even _get_ a dog that big…” and I kept biting my tongue to refrain from saying ‘Hell’ because I think he might take me seriously until Gard spills the beans.

On a more related note, I was sitting in John’s parlor reading the newspaper trying to see if anything major had happened that Murphy for some reason hadn’t told me about since, y’know, I’m paranoid like that. A big ol’ paranoid baby. But today was the last day I would be here on _this job’s_ terms since John was up and moving around with basically no problem at all. The occasional coughs and sneezes here and there, but those were rare, and easily covered up. I was really only there because they didn’t know the exact dosage for the potion since they all just wanted it gone for good, and that was fine by me- because it meant I was getting paid. 

But speak of the devil and he shall appear because there he was- all dressed up and back up to his usual snuff. Face cool and controlled, yet still holding that fatherly appearance, money green eyes fierce and bold with none of that dull sheen of a sickness gripping them, and posture stiff and straight yet ready to bounce into battle at any moment. AKA all mobster Gentleman Marcone that I wanted to piss off and love at the same time.

Luckily for me, when he saw me, he relaxed a bit, smile a little more genuine, and eyes a little more hunter green. “Ah- just who I needed to see. Hello, Harry.”

“Nuh uh, scumbag. Your pass for my name usage has worn out. Back to Dresden, thank you,” I said, serious about trying to get our walls back up but just a bit teasing and friendly.

The wry smirk that crossed his features told me he caught it, “Yes yes, Mr. Dresden, of course. But names was _not_ what I had in mind.”

“Oh?” I asked, crossing my arms and raising an eyebrow, “And what would be the subject be?”

“I heard you.”

What?? What in the nine circles of Hell did he-

Oh.

_Oh._

My reaction must of shown on my face because his own went from a slightly cocked eyebrow oh analysis to a full on devilish smirk.

Fuck _me._

“Gladly. On a later date, unfortunately,” he said, amusement clearly trying to be restrained

Did I actually fucking say that aloud??? “Uh- wait no-”

Pulling me down, he gave me a chaste kiss on the lips before letting me gape at him as my face flushed like a victorian maiden when he let me go. His smirk seemed to grow as his eyes danced with laughter and fondness, “As I said. Later date.”

“Okay,” was all I could manage to squeak out, and it was 100% a manly squeak. Don’t let anyone tell you otherwise. Most definitely not John.

Then with one final wild flash of a grin, he turned heel and walked over to the hallway to head to his private office, most likely. “I assume you’ll need a ride back to your apartment, so Nathan will be taking you,” he called without looking back, “and you might want to close your mouth- you’ll catch flies.”

Snapping my mouth shut, I rubbed my neck and muttered hotly under my breath something not very family friendly about him. In both ways for those of you with your minds in the gutter. Shut up. Making my way outside, I saw Cujo leaning against the driver’s side door. Still grumbling, I hopped into the back seat. Seeing Gard in the passenger driver’s seat threw me off a bit until I saw Hendricks making a grabbing hand motion to her. Rolling her eyes she handed an eighty over to him as he flashed her a subtle grin.

“Hell’s bells, guys,” I grumbled, feeling my face heat up again.

Neither said anything but I saw their grins widen ever so slightly before they looked forward again and started to drive me to my home. 

When I hopped out and headed in, I saw most of my friends and my chosen and also not chosen family who had _all_ gotten in.

Hell’s freaking star stones and stick bells. This was gonna be a long day.

 

*******

 

Flopping onto my bed after being accosted by everyone making sure that I was not under the influence of anything or anyone and also that Marcone hadn’t somehow wrangled me into a job I didn’t want, I finally allowed myself to grin. 

Me and John. Not your most likely pair- not at all. As a team? Yeah definitely, but as a couple? No. Never. Not in a million years. Yet here we were- or at least going to try. 

I snorted as I thought about how much of a teenage girl I was being and then rolled over to stare at my ceiling.

This was gonna be an interesting development- and to think it only came to fruition because I was a wizard he knew and trusted, at least a little bit, to help take care of him.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Happy belated Pride Month y’all  
> And so I end this fic which was supposed to be oNE chAPter dAMMIT. Sorry that it took a little bit- finals and overworked-caused-sickness _(go figure)_ and a few other things got in the way. But hey- at least I finished in time for my birthday! Anyways, thank you so so _so_ much for reading!!! And hopefully more content for this ship appears soon; from me or others ;)
> 
> Also **_Peace Talks is finally finished catch me screaming out my non-existent throat_**

**Author's Note:**

> wheezes @ this self indulgence- started writing this when I was reading White Knight, catch me finish this long after I have finished Skin Game bc I'm a fucking speed reader and also a procrastinator. THIS WAS S U P P O S E D TO BE A ONE SHOT BUT NOOOOOO IT'S MULTI-CHAPTERED
> 
>  
> 
> Real quick side note as a legitimate question. Do y'all say Marcone, 'Mar-cone' or 'Mar-cone-y' because I say 'Mar-cone'.


End file.
